The Time Traveler's Lover : Jack at 39
Inspired by The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger.
The characters belong to Annie Proulx.
Jack travels back and forth in time over the course of his life and encounters Ennis and himself - visits that change everything and almost nothing.
August 15, 1983
Jack lay on his back in the dark, listening to the intermittant splashes of fish on the surface of the lake. Through the skylight in the cabin's roof he could see a perfect half moon but couldn't recall if it was waxing or waning. Randall's soft snores were gradually increasing in volume as his mouth went slack with deepening sleep. At the apex of an inhale Jack jounced the mattress with his hips; Randall snorted, closed his mouth and resumed normal breathing through his nose.
Jack was starting to have doubts about this idea to move to Lightning Flat with Randall. When he had voiced the notion at his parents' house in April, he'd done so mainly to make real to himself his vow to quit Ennis. It was a mistake, because his father had seized this news and milked it for every drop of venom.
"So yer sayin now I'll never get to meet this Ennis Del Mar? Every time you called to say you were gonna visit I'd say to yer Ma, wonder if this time he's gonna bring Ennis Del Mar and whip this ranch into shape. Tell you what, hate ta hafta learn a new name after all these years. What's this ranch foreman called again?"
That night he sat in the dark on his old bed for an hour, hoping for an apparition from his future to point the way but not even the moon made an appearance. For the first time he did not indulge in his ritual fingering of the mementos from the summer of 1963. He left at dawn, silently hugging his mother goodbye. She had risen to see him off but didn't press food on him for once and spoke only to tell him to drive safely.
After his return to Childress, he had tried to get back into his well-worn groove of drinking, working and fucking Randall. He had little appetite for food and lost most of his paunch. But November wouldn't line up quietly behind the other months, kept thinking it was so goddamn special. He needed to smother it with another plan so had broached the subject of Lightning Flat with Randall in July, just to gauge his reaction. To his alarm, it was a wildly enthusiastic one. Jack realized his life with Lashawn must be even more unbearable than he had supposed. Randall wanted to know everything about the state of the ranch, facts and figures, dates and details. Overnight, laconic Randall had turned into a relative chatterbox, making it clear to Jack just to what extent the man had been a substitute for Ennis.
If Ennis remained true to form, he would send Jack a postcard in October proposing a November meeting date, as if nothing had happened in April. They had argued before, and it had never made a difference. Ennis had blasted at him wildly but Jack couldn't forget the words that lodged in his heart like buckshot: "It’s because of you I’m like this." Whatever Ennis had meant, Jack knew now that he was more right than he could ever know. He’d said he couldn’t take it anymore. If he let Ennis be, in the present, would he cause no more damage in the past? He would go to Lightening Flat in September, alone, and talk to his parents about the ranch, show his father he was serious this time. And he would mail the shirts to Ennis, wrapped around a postcard saying goodbye.
Randall's breathing signaled the start of another round of snores. Jack closed his eyes and waited for right moment to jiggle the bed. But instead his breath began to sound ragged and Jack noticed the mattress had firmed up considerably.
November 7th, year unknown
He opened his eyes. The room was bright, and hovering right above his face was a man's hand. Jack was lying on the floor next to a bed, and its occupant's arm was hanging over the side, a plastic band encircling his wrist.
His eyes focused on the type on the bracelet. DEL MAR ENNIS.
He scrambled to his feet and stared at the gaunt man asleep in the hospital bed, a plastic oxygen tube disappearing into one nostril. How could this be Ennis? Jack bent and peered at the ID bracelet. This was the hospital in Jackson. He stared at the man's face, searching for traces of his friend in the features.
Jack heard footsteps outside the door. In three strides he was at the side of the unoccupied bed on the other side of the room, lifting the sheet and diving under it as the door opened. Someone entered, shutting the door quietly behind them, gently slid the curtain separating the beds and dragged a chair a couple of feet.
After a few moments of silence, a woman's voice said softly, "Hey, Daddy."
Jack could not hear an answering voice, but Ennis must have replied in some way because the woman spoke again.
"I brought what you asked for." He heard the rustle of a paper bag as something was drawn out of it. "You want me to lay them on you?" He couldn't make out the whispered answer.
There was silence for a minute.
"Daddy, I found a shoebox fulla postcards," the woman said, "and I hafta tell you somethin. I know who Jack is."
Jack stopped breathing, straining to hear the slightest sound from the other bed.
"Sshh. It's ok Daddy, it's alright." He heard her shift in her chair, inching it closer to the bed. "Mama told me about Jack Twist a long time ago, the night before my weddin.
"She said- look at me Daddy. Look at me, open your eyes. She told me the whole story the night before I got married and was I different with you the next day? Didn't I dance with you, Daddy? Didn't I hold your hand, hug and kiss you a hundred times? "
Hot tears pooled in Jack's ears and snot streamed onto his lip as he trembled with the effort to remain silent.
"Yeah, Daddy, when Mama told me, I knew then that he wasn't in your life anymore, cause back when we used to hear his name you were cheerful sometimes. But after I graduated high school you never mentioned him, and you never laughed ever, and bout then's when you started drinkin so much. But I never knew why... till I found the postcards and read the last one. And when you asked for these, well..."
Jack's mind became a whir of milestone and birth dates, calendar pages flipping like in a movie. He must have sent the shirts with a postcard like he'd just been contemplating. He heard a wheezing sob from the bed, and the shoosh of a tissue being pulled from a box, but the woman's voice was strong and clear.
"Daddy, did you love him?" A small sound came from Ennis' bed. "Say it then, Daddy. Say the words so God can hear and tell Jack, wherever he is."
Jack's squeezed his eyes shut, mouth open and stretched wide in a grimace, his throat spasming in mute keening.
Like a rusty door creaking open, Ennis' hoarse voice hitched through his weeping. "Yeah... I… loved him."
He prayed for Ennis' daughter to leave, just leave. He didn't listen to the rest of their words, couldn't hear them for the blood roaring in his ears. When the door clicked shut at last, he jack-knifed onto his side, bunched the coarse sheet to his face and released a wail. From the other bed he heard answering gasps. As abruptly as they came, his tears stopped: it didn't have to be like this, not always like this. Unlike the other times he had gone to his future, he had truth to bring back.
He blew his nose on the sheet, wiped his eyes and ears and slid off the bed. When he eased the curtain back he saw Ennis' eyes were closed, their two shirts on his chest, arms folded across them. Jack stepped next to the bed and put his hand over Ennis' thin one, warming it. Ennis opened his eyes and looked into Jack's; they were rimmed with red but there was no surprise in them.
"You got the message?" he whispered.
Jack turned over his lover's hand, bent and kissed his palm. He picked up the shirts and drew them both on, one at a time, Ennis' shirt against his skin, watching him and being watched in turn. He sat on the edge of the bed and swung his legs up, leaning over him, braced on one elbow. Jack cradled Ennis’ head in his hands and kissed his lined brow, his gray hair, the dry skin by his eyes, his sunken cheeks and his flaking lips. Ennis drew his arms around him, little strength in the embrace but his eyes never left Jack's.
"Waiting for me?" Ennis whispered.
"Yeah, friend, I'll wait for you," Jack murmured, and shifted down to carefully rest his head on Ennis' chest, listening to his shallow breath and weak heartbeat. Ennis’ fingers sifted slowly through his hair, gently stroking. Jack closed his eyes, hating to leave but impatient to as well. Ennis' frail body began to fill out in his embrace, his life force increasing and his arms pressing Jack to his solid chest.
<< Jack at 38 | Jack at 39 (2) >>
The characters belong to Annie Proulx.
Jack travels back and forth in time over the course of his life and encounters Ennis and himself - visits that change everything and almost nothing.
August 15, 1983
Jack lay on his back in the dark, listening to the intermittant splashes of fish on the surface of the lake. Through the skylight in the cabin's roof he could see a perfect half moon but couldn't recall if it was waxing or waning. Randall's soft snores were gradually increasing in volume as his mouth went slack with deepening sleep. At the apex of an inhale Jack jounced the mattress with his hips; Randall snorted, closed his mouth and resumed normal breathing through his nose.
Jack was starting to have doubts about this idea to move to Lightning Flat with Randall. When he had voiced the notion at his parents' house in April, he'd done so mainly to make real to himself his vow to quit Ennis. It was a mistake, because his father had seized this news and milked it for every drop of venom.
"So yer sayin now I'll never get to meet this Ennis Del Mar? Every time you called to say you were gonna visit I'd say to yer Ma, wonder if this time he's gonna bring Ennis Del Mar and whip this ranch into shape. Tell you what, hate ta hafta learn a new name after all these years. What's this ranch foreman called again?"
That night he sat in the dark on his old bed for an hour, hoping for an apparition from his future to point the way but not even the moon made an appearance. For the first time he did not indulge in his ritual fingering of the mementos from the summer of 1963. He left at dawn, silently hugging his mother goodbye. She had risen to see him off but didn't press food on him for once and spoke only to tell him to drive safely.
After his return to Childress, he had tried to get back into his well-worn groove of drinking, working and fucking Randall. He had little appetite for food and lost most of his paunch. But November wouldn't line up quietly behind the other months, kept thinking it was so goddamn special. He needed to smother it with another plan so had broached the subject of Lightning Flat with Randall in July, just to gauge his reaction. To his alarm, it was a wildly enthusiastic one. Jack realized his life with Lashawn must be even more unbearable than he had supposed. Randall wanted to know everything about the state of the ranch, facts and figures, dates and details. Overnight, laconic Randall had turned into a relative chatterbox, making it clear to Jack just to what extent the man had been a substitute for Ennis.
If Ennis remained true to form, he would send Jack a postcard in October proposing a November meeting date, as if nothing had happened in April. They had argued before, and it had never made a difference. Ennis had blasted at him wildly but Jack couldn't forget the words that lodged in his heart like buckshot: "It’s because of you I’m like this." Whatever Ennis had meant, Jack knew now that he was more right than he could ever know. He’d said he couldn’t take it anymore. If he let Ennis be, in the present, would he cause no more damage in the past? He would go to Lightening Flat in September, alone, and talk to his parents about the ranch, show his father he was serious this time. And he would mail the shirts to Ennis, wrapped around a postcard saying goodbye.
Randall's breathing signaled the start of another round of snores. Jack closed his eyes and waited for right moment to jiggle the bed. But instead his breath began to sound ragged and Jack noticed the mattress had firmed up considerably.
November 7th, year unknown
He opened his eyes. The room was bright, and hovering right above his face was a man's hand. Jack was lying on the floor next to a bed, and its occupant's arm was hanging over the side, a plastic band encircling his wrist.
His eyes focused on the type on the bracelet. DEL MAR ENNIS.
He scrambled to his feet and stared at the gaunt man asleep in the hospital bed, a plastic oxygen tube disappearing into one nostril. How could this be Ennis? Jack bent and peered at the ID bracelet. This was the hospital in Jackson. He stared at the man's face, searching for traces of his friend in the features.
Jack heard footsteps outside the door. In three strides he was at the side of the unoccupied bed on the other side of the room, lifting the sheet and diving under it as the door opened. Someone entered, shutting the door quietly behind them, gently slid the curtain separating the beds and dragged a chair a couple of feet.
After a few moments of silence, a woman's voice said softly, "Hey, Daddy."
Jack could not hear an answering voice, but Ennis must have replied in some way because the woman spoke again.
"I brought what you asked for." He heard the rustle of a paper bag as something was drawn out of it. "You want me to lay them on you?" He couldn't make out the whispered answer.
There was silence for a minute.
"Daddy, I found a shoebox fulla postcards," the woman said, "and I hafta tell you somethin. I know who Jack is."
Jack stopped breathing, straining to hear the slightest sound from the other bed.
"Sshh. It's ok Daddy, it's alright." He heard her shift in her chair, inching it closer to the bed. "Mama told me about Jack Twist a long time ago, the night before my weddin.
"She said- look at me Daddy. Look at me, open your eyes. She told me the whole story the night before I got married and was I different with you the next day? Didn't I dance with you, Daddy? Didn't I hold your hand, hug and kiss you a hundred times? "
Hot tears pooled in Jack's ears and snot streamed onto his lip as he trembled with the effort to remain silent.
"Yeah, Daddy, when Mama told me, I knew then that he wasn't in your life anymore, cause back when we used to hear his name you were cheerful sometimes. But after I graduated high school you never mentioned him, and you never laughed ever, and bout then's when you started drinkin so much. But I never knew why... till I found the postcards and read the last one. And when you asked for these, well..."
Jack's mind became a whir of milestone and birth dates, calendar pages flipping like in a movie. He must have sent the shirts with a postcard like he'd just been contemplating. He heard a wheezing sob from the bed, and the shoosh of a tissue being pulled from a box, but the woman's voice was strong and clear.
"Daddy, did you love him?" A small sound came from Ennis' bed. "Say it then, Daddy. Say the words so God can hear and tell Jack, wherever he is."
Jack's squeezed his eyes shut, mouth open and stretched wide in a grimace, his throat spasming in mute keening.
Like a rusty door creaking open, Ennis' hoarse voice hitched through his weeping. "Yeah... I… loved him."
He prayed for Ennis' daughter to leave, just leave. He didn't listen to the rest of their words, couldn't hear them for the blood roaring in his ears. When the door clicked shut at last, he jack-knifed onto his side, bunched the coarse sheet to his face and released a wail. From the other bed he heard answering gasps. As abruptly as they came, his tears stopped: it didn't have to be like this, not always like this. Unlike the other times he had gone to his future, he had truth to bring back.
He blew his nose on the sheet, wiped his eyes and ears and slid off the bed. When he eased the curtain back he saw Ennis' eyes were closed, their two shirts on his chest, arms folded across them. Jack stepped next to the bed and put his hand over Ennis' thin one, warming it. Ennis opened his eyes and looked into Jack's; they were rimmed with red but there was no surprise in them.
"You got the message?" he whispered.
Jack turned over his lover's hand, bent and kissed his palm. He picked up the shirts and drew them both on, one at a time, Ennis' shirt against his skin, watching him and being watched in turn. He sat on the edge of the bed and swung his legs up, leaning over him, braced on one elbow. Jack cradled Ennis’ head in his hands and kissed his lined brow, his gray hair, the dry skin by his eyes, his sunken cheeks and his flaking lips. Ennis drew his arms around him, little strength in the embrace but his eyes never left Jack's.
"Waiting for me?" Ennis whispered.
"Yeah, friend, I'll wait for you," Jack murmured, and shifted down to carefully rest his head on Ennis' chest, listening to his shallow breath and weak heartbeat. Ennis’ fingers sifted slowly through his hair, gently stroking. Jack closed his eyes, hating to leave but impatient to as well. Ennis' frail body began to fill out in his embrace, his life force increasing and his arms pressing Jack to his solid chest.
<< Jack at 38 | Jack at 39 (2) >>